It's Over, Isn't It?
by Flamegirl217
Summary: Michel has some time to reflect after what happened to him. Follows shortly after 'Melody'.


**A/N: The lyrics are a parody of the song from Steven Universe with the same name. Enjoy.**

He had managed to escape prison. He had managed to get rid of his inmate uniform in favour of something more stylish. He had even managed to find a penthouse that he could 'borrow' for the night.

But that didn't make him feel any different, feel anything besides anger, _rage_ , and a deep sadness that played on his heartstrings.

Michel slid the glass door closed behind him, standing at the entrance of the balcony. Gotham City never had stars in its sky, only the artificial lights of skyscrapers and Wayne Enterprises. And now, its only _real_ star had lost his freedom forever.

Michel scowled angrily.

And it was all thanks to Detective James _Gordon_. Now, whenever he sang, the invention that was now _permanently sealed_ to his skin would cause his voice to hypnotize everyone around him.

Michel's fists clenched before he sighed, head leaning against the glass door. His eyes closed, the different instruments of his emotions battling discordantly. They built up in his chest and then into his throat, and what else was he to do but to let them out? To do what he loved.

" _I was fine, with the thought, the possibility that I could be caught."_ Michel stepped away from the door, hands in his pockets, " _I was fine, 'cause I knew, that no one stood a chance until you…"_ He stepped further out onto the balcony, looking out at the darkened skyline.

 _"I was fine, when you came."_ He jumped forward and spun, throwing away his jacket with a flourish as he sang the next line, " _I adjusted to the tempo of the game."_

 _"But then you, killed my muse,"_ His shoulders sagged, face falling as he went to the edge of the balcony, _"Of all the things I never thought I'd lose…"_ Michel gripped the railing as he looked down sadly on the streets below.

 _"It's over, isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over? It's over, isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over?"_

 _"You won, you collared me,"_ He undid the top button of his shirt and held his hand to the metal collar, _"And there's nothing else more wrong."_ His hand fell, a heavy sigh affecting his note.

 _"It's over, isn't it? But why should I move on?"_

A thin veil of anger undertoned the song, and he stepped away sharply and whirled around.

 _"Praise and glory, reinvention-"_

He gestured with both arms, then drew them both past his neck and into the air.

 _"Riches, freedom, world's attention."_ He span, dipped his leg, and then straightened and held out both arms as if basking in the adulation of a crowd.

 _"In the spotlight, freed potential-"_ He turned and struck a pose, and then made a then made another gesture similar to before across his neck, but with only one arm, and then did two quick steps in succession before leaning backwards as he sang, _"Bold, charming, utopian."_

 _"Who am I now with my voice taken from me?"_ He fell back into the deck chair, looking up into the sky in despair, _"World greying dull with my love snatched from me."_ His volume rose, the air filling with his ballad.

 _"What can I change, what's done has been done."_ He held an arm over his eyes before almost shouting, " _But I still have to face the re-runs!"_

 _"It's over, isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over?"_ He rose from the deck chair, going back to the balcony as sadness began to be overshadowed by anger, _"It's over, isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over?!"_

 _"You won, you collared me! And there's nothing else more WROOOOooOOOOONNGGG!"_ He threw his head back and sang as loud as he could, knuckles white from how tight he was gripping the railing.

 _"It's over, isn't it? But why should I move on?_ " His energy seemed to have left with that note, and he held his head in his hands hopelessly as his voice lowered to barely above a whisper, _"It's over, isn't it? But why should I move on…?"_ The final bars of the song came to an end, his emotional melody finished, and he sighed before pulling himself up and going back to the door.

He looked back over his shoulder at Gotham, and carelessly picked up his jacket before going back inside.


End file.
